Valleys Beyond
by Future Holds
Summary: - Not Complete - This is the tale of a simple woodsman confronted with a series of events that forever change his place in the world. This is not set in any particular campaign world. I am writing this for my own escapism pleasure and hope that others might enjoy taking the journey with me. I will be adding chapters as they arrive.
1. Chapter One - What's Cooking

**Chapter One**

 _What's Cooking_

It had been an idyllic morning in the Valley of Gorn. The warm sun shimmered off bright green leaves as they fluttered in a gentle breeze. Song birds chirped and warbled, flitting between branches.

Gorn wiped sweat from his brow with a thick forearm and leaned on the handle of a well worn axe. Pieces of firewood surrounded the heavily muscled man, a testament to his mornings work.

"Still plenty left to do," he muttered quietly to himself. A habit that annoyed his wife. "A hard winter is coming."

He knelt down to scoop up a caterpillar in an immense palm and stroked it's fuzzy little body with a meaty finger.

"Sure enough sign of it right here," he continued to mutter while examining the creature with a scrutinizing eye. He knew that a wide black band on the center of one of those caterpillars usually indicated the severity of the coming season. The wider the band, the worse the winter. This caterpillar was nearly all black.

After setting it back on the ground with a surprising gentleness, he slung his axe over his shoulder and turned his gaze to the bottom of the valley. He'd spent the entire morning in the upper meadow chopping wood and a lunchtime hunger grew in his belly.

Wondering what wonderful thing his wife had prepared for a meal, Gorn began to lumber down the easy slope. A contented smile filled his broad face.

Thyrynn, his wife, certainly spent her morning busily about the kitchen, preparing the days meals. She took great pride in her creations. Gorn provided the meat and she harvested fruits and vegetables from her immaculate gardens.

Her father had willed the valley to Gorn and Thyrynn just before he died. He had lived there alone for countless years, rarely making contact with the world beyond the valley.

Unexpectedly, he had arrived at Gorn and Thyrynn's room in a boarding house. Some strange malady had befallen him and death quickly consumed him. He made it clear that Gorn was to take his daughter to the house in his valley and make it their own.

After some adjusting, the two found an unmatched happiness and lived blissfully for years. Gorn worked the surrounding forests. He cut wood, hunted, trapped and skinned. Thyrynn turned the house into a comfortable home and surrounded it with her gardens.

Gorn could see the gardens coming into view. Beautiful with colorful flowers intermixed with a bounty of fruits, berries, and vegetables. A great hide hung from the side of the house, curing. A pleasant smell wafted from the smokehouse.

An owlbear had wandered into a deadfall trap Gorn had placed in the upper valley. It was fortunate to have caught the beast rather than stumble across it in the forest. Now it's hide of fur and feathers hung on a wall above the smokehouse, where several racks of it's meat soaked up the flavorful smoke.

Gorn pushed his way through the gate and lovingly ran a hand over clusters of bright flowers. He made his way through the gardens and approached the covered porch.

"Thyrynn," he called. He liked to announce his presence to prevent himself from startling his dedicated wife.

He propped his axe against the porch bench and kicked off his muddy boots. Thyrynn also insisted on keeping a clean house and Gorn was happy to oblige.

He pushed open the unlatched door and stooped down to walk through the entranceway. A strange sound and some unfamiliar odors greeted Gorn as he looked about the house.

A horrible hissing sizzle came from the kitchen area, accompanied by a sporadic rattling. He quickened his pace with a scowl forming on his face and went to investigate.

The stew pot lid rattled as it boiled over. Streaks of stew oozed down the pot and bubbled into a burnt mess on Thyrynn's cooktop. Gorn quickly pulled the pot away from the heat, burning his hands a bit.

It was not like Thyrynn to neglect her kitchen concoctions. Gorn scratched the top of his head and peered around the house. His scowl deepened. That's when he saw it.


	2. Chapter Two - Elsewhere

**Chapter Two**

 _Elsewhere_

"What in The Blazes are you doing up here?" Her voice, shrill with excitement, echoed through the stone passageways.

She clambered up the central stairway. It twisted in a spiral several hundred feet to a room above. As she neared the gilded door at the top, a thick green smoke obstructed her vision.

"I think perhaps," her brother called back from the other side of the door, "something may have gone wrong."

She pulled the satin of her gown-like robes over her mouth and nose, but it did little to filter out the noxious smoke. Eyes beginning to weep and burn, she fumbled blindly at the door.

"Have you at least unshuttered the windows," she managed to yell between choking gasps of air.

"Oh, well no," he called back without a hint of distress. "I hadn't thought of it. Just finishing up some notes here. Very important to document these things without delay. Details are lost with the passage time, as you know." He rambled on.

Finally finding the handle, she pushed through the door and found the strange green smoke to be much thicker inside the room. She could barely see the light at her brothers desk. Usually illuminating the study like a clear day outside at noon, the thick green smoke choked it all but out.

The smokey mist swirled and writhed as if with a life of its own. She was reminded of a time in her youth when she found an octopus in a tidepool. The squirming tenticles mezmerized her then, just as the mysterious smoke mezmerized her now.

Staggering blindly into the study, with outstretched arms searching, she made her way to the closest shuttered window.

"Confound it," she yelped after stubbing her toe on some unseen crate.

"I'll be with you in a moment, dear sister." He continued working his quill on some parchment.

The shutters banged open, giving little relief to the thickness of the air. She dug her fingers into one of the pouches dangling from her belt. After retrieving a few small seeds, she tossed them at the center of the study and fanned her arms in dramatic circles.

"Meerna venitulas," she whispered. The magic wove it's way into the room. Continuing to fan her arms, the air began to move. She directed it into a wind that circled around and around.

Finally, as the wind grew in intensity, she thrust her arms out the unshuttered opening. The wind howled past her out the window, carrying with it the strange smokey mist.

Many pieces of paper and plenty of light objects followed the mist outside, where they drifted to the ground far below. The mist whipped and thrashed upwards into the sky without dissipating.

"Now what was it you needed," he calmy asked as he set down his quill.

She looked to her brother in a huff of shocked annoyance with hands on her hips. Slowly her stern gaze melted into an amused smile.

"Oh dear," he said. He looked about the disarray of the study, which he diligently kept very organized. "What a mess you've made."

She began to giggle and quickly burst into outright laughter. Unable to contain herself, she stared at him with quizzical amusement and laughed harder.

"I fail to see humor in this," he stammered. He fidgeted with the papers that remained on his desk.

She walked past him, still giggling, and searched the shelf on the far side of the study. After finding what she was looking for, she turned to face her brother. Upon looking at him again, the laughter returned.

"Now I insist you explain what is so enormously funny," he said.

"Here," she finally responded between giggles. "Just take a look."

Holding out the small hand mirror she had retrieved from the shelf, she waited for his reaction.

His eyes narrowed searchingly as if he didn't recognize the image being reflected. He dragged a hand down his cheek. Astonishment and perplexity filled his expression. He quickly pulled his hand from his face to look at it directly with a frightened gasp.

"What's this," he said with a bit of fear. "What? What...," was all he could manage to utter.

The laughter returned as her brother snatched the mirror from her hand. He frantically moved it about, examining every possible angle.

His hair stood on end, blown backwards and singed at the ends. That wasn't what concerned him. It was his skin. It had turned a rather boogery green. From the pointed tips of his elven ears to the end of his narrow nose, his once fair skin had turned to a horrible shade of green.

Hardly one to be shaken, he forced himself to composure. "This must be documented." He grabbed his quill and hastily dipped it into an inkwell.

A loud obnoxious clanging sound erupted outside.

"Someone approaches from the east," she said. The laughter and amusement quickly vanished. She strode purposefully back to the window and peered out.

Some papers still fluttered down the side of their tower. A clutter of debris splayed out into the patchy grass below. She could see the dust of a rider rising between the trees. It moved closer with an alarming pace.

"Eralee! Montral!" A voice boomed from the approaching rider. "Come quickly! I need your help! Something terrible has happened! Eralee! Montral!"

"To your feet," she turned to her brother.

"One moment," he replied. "Just about finished."

"Now," she commanded and swiped the quill from his hand. "Gorn approaches from the east in distress."


	3. Chapter Three - Take Flight

**Chapter Three**

 _Take Flight_

Reining his horse through some trees to a sliding stop before the Tower Elsewhere, Gorn's mind raced. He could not understand what had happened.

The elven twins of the tower were his closest chance for help. It had even been their appointed duty to offer protection for the Valley of Gorn.

Many years ago, they wandered into the lands and met Thyrynn's father. Ragged and forlorn, they begged for sanctuary. The three struck an agreement. The elves could claim ownership of an abandoned tower on a bluff above the valley if they agreed to pledge their services in the event of any trouble.

They repaired the tower and named it Elsewhere. It suited them fine. There they studied the magical arts and thrived in seclusion. Gorn honored the arrangement after inheriting the lands.

Through all the years, never did an occasion arise that required their services. Now something terrible disturbed the peace of Gorn's valley.

He looked up at the tower, noticing some sheets of paper still fluttering down to the scattered debris. It looked as if something bad had happened there as well. Gorn's heart dropped to his stomach.

"Eralee! Montral," he bellowed again and dismounted his horse before it skidded to a complete stop. He hit the ground running and unsheathed a hunting knife, not knowing what to expect.

Montral emerged from the tower door. "Easy friend. We are at your service."

He shouldered a backpack and motioned to Gorn in a calming gesture. Montral stopped to kneel down by a pool of water at the towers base. "Eralee will join us momentarily."

Even as he spoke, Eralee appeared in the top window above. She leaned out, head down and hands on the stone surface. She continued to climb out and down, amazingly clinging to the tower. She quickly scampered down the side of the tower in the fashion of a startled spider.

Gorn had grown accustomed to strange happenings at the Tower Elsewhere. He didn't even pause at the sight of Montral's strange green skin. Seeing no further sign of trouble he jammed the knife back into it's sheath.

"Hurry," he cried. "Come with me." Gorn was halfway back in his saddle when Eralee jumped on behind him. Montral dried his hands on his robes, stood up, and ran towards the two already seated on the stamping horse.

"Make haste, then." Montral instructed without slowing. "You ride, I shall fly."

Gorn turned the horse and whipped it into a run without hesitation. Eralee clutched him tightly around the waist. She looked back over her shoulder to see Montral.

Trees zipped past at the mounts furious pace. She watched Montral pluck a bead from a bracelet and toss it into the air before him. It burst with a cracking snap and Montral leapt into the air.

He continued to ascend into the air, just above the trees, and followed the riders below. Montral searched for any signs of danger ahead that might go unnoticed from the ground. A strange shudder shook his insides, feeling an uncomfortable sense of foreboding.

He cursed to himself for not noticing earlier. The odd turn of events during the mornings experiments had consumed his attention. He should have been more vigilant.


	4. Chapter Four - Mates Return

**Chapter Four**

 _Mates Return_

Montral landed softly next to the garden gate and attempted to flatten his wild hair. Eralee slid back off the horse as Gorn brought it to a stop. He dismounted and flung the reins over a hitching post above it's water trough.

"Now Gorn, I haven't seen anything requiring such urgency," Montral calmly stated. "Is this another one of Thyrynn's surprise parties?"

It was true that Montral hadn't seen any immediate threats on the way down from Elsewhere. The uneasy feeling, however, continued to persist. He wondered if it could be related to the strange mist and the unusual turn of events earlier.

If that were the case, it couldn't possibly be related to whatever had Gorn so distraught. The timing didn't add up.

He didn't see anything out of the ordinary around the homestead except for some animals roaming above the upper meadow. Likely some foraging bears. Also not out of the ordinary.

He did notice the stove fire had gone out, for no smoke trailed up from the chimney. Slightly out of the ordinary. He'd never known the home to be without a fire on the hearth.

"I can't explain it," Gorn said to the ground. "I can't describe it. I don't even want to think about." He rubbed his eyes with white knuckled fists and shook his head.

Montral knew Gorn to be proudly independent and competently capable. It unnerved him to see Gorn in such a state.

Eralee put a delicate hand on his shoulder. "What has happened?"

"I don't understand," Gorn said. He turned to look down into her eyes pleadingly. "Please go inside. I haven't touched anything. Maybe you can make some sense of it. I just don't understand."

"Alright sister," Montral said. "Shall we go have a look." Still halfway expecting Thyrynn to jump out from behind a door with a cake and admiring Gorn's possible acting ability, he started down the garden path.

Eralee deftly joined him and they arrived at the porch. "This seems serious. I hope nothing is wrong with Thyrynn. I know she recently learned she was with child."

"We shall see," Montral flatly said. "Let us have a look then, shall we?"

He bowed slightly and motioned for his sister to go on in ahead. She glided over the threshold with her satin robes swishing and Montral followed. The uneasy feeling increased and all thoughts of walking into a surprise party vanished.

"Be on your guard," he whispered. "Something is definitely not right in here."

"I know," she whispered back and adjusted the pouches on her belt. "I can feel it too."

Their entire demeanor changed and silently crept into the kitchen area like panthers stalking prey. Montral scanned everything in sight, taking mental notes. Eralee crouched lower and drew the silver daggers that were secreted away in the sleeves of her robe.

She peered around each corner and piece of furniture before proceeding forward. Her brother stayed a pace behind her, moving only when she moved.

They slowly moved deeper into the house. Eralee peered around the partition between the kitchen and the sitting room when she sprung. Quick as a striking cobra, she dashed into the room. She squatted down and disappeared into the shadows behind a large chair.

Montral froze in place. His jaw dropped a bit and stood there looking stupid. His skin might have turned green if it weren't already.

"Oh, my. This is bad," he managed to say. "This is very bad."

Blood. Deep blood. Dark blood pooled on the floor in the center of the disheveled room. Blood spattered on every surface outward. The body, or what remained of the body, lay in the pool of blood.

A thick line of blood formed a perfect circle around the pool. Elaborate sigils were intricately drawn in blood around the circle.

"Get down, you fool." Eralee forcefully whispered from the shadows. She had somehow already moved to hide behind a different overturned chair further into the room.

Her command shook Montral from his stupor. He took a step back and crouched behind the partition under a table. He searched his mind, trying to place the sigils. Very dark and very dangerous sigils.

Eralee suddenly stepped back into the kitchen, startling Montral. He jumped at the sudden appearance of his sister and banged the top of his head on the table. A glass tipped over, rolled off the edge of the table, and shattered.

"I think it's safe," Eralee spoke. "Well, at least the house is empty. How safe it is remains to be seen."

Montral stood, rubbed the knot forming on his head, and shot a worried look to Eralee. He carefully stepped past the broken glass and braced himself to look back into the sitting room.

He unslung his pack and set it down at his feet. With a serious look on his face, covering all emotions, he rumaged through the pack. Eralee continued to pace about the house while her brother set upon his work.

Montral produced a roll of blank parchments, a bottle of ink, and his favorite quill. He also pulled out two small boxes, ornate miniature versions of treasure chests.

He spread the parchments across the table, then arranged his quill and ink between the two small chests. Everything had to be just right or he would not be able to focus his full concentration.

With thumbs pressing some concealed button, the lids of the chests popped open. Some fuzzy legs reached out from one while two bulbous unblinking eyes stared out from the other.

As Eralee paced past the table once more, she paused and held her hand level with the top of her box. A rather large spider crawled onto the back of her hand. She resumed pacing and allowed the spider to crawl up her arm.

"I need your help again little friend," she said to it. "Please help us understand what happened here."

A fat old toad jumped out of the other box and landed in the middle of Montral's parchments. "That goes for you as well," he said to the toad. "Please don't be a nuisance, you old curmudgeon."

The toad croaked, blinked it's eyes with a swallow, and hopped to the edge of the table, off the parchments. Montral knew it would rather be back at home, in it's pool at the base of Tower Elsewhere.

Montral dipped his quill and blotted it. He took a deep breath and began working.

He sketched the symbols, noting their orientation and position, mindfully documenting each on separate sheets. He recognized a few of the strange symbols, while others seemed like ancient versions of things less familiar.

"The body has been disemboweled," Eralee said from the sitting room. "There's no sign of the entrails."

Her brother scribbled down her observations, as she spoke them, on a different piece of parchment. He did it while simultaneously working on the sheets of his own observations.

"The ribs have been broken open. The heart has been removed." She resumed moving around the house, unable to look at the mutilation for more than a few moments.

"The door doesn't seem to have been forced open," she continued. "The windows are intact. There's a spilled coin purse on the kitchen bookshelf. A pot of burnt stew in the wash basin. There are hand prints in hearth ashes, not quite human. Not elven."

She paused for a moment. "Be sure to have a look at this, Montral."

His quill furiously scratching at the parchments, from one to the other, stopped briefly as he glanced over. "Hmm."

"There are more markings on the body, carved into the flesh," she said while lifting a dangling flap of skin.

"Yes, dear sister. I've already noted those." He dipped and blotted the quill again. The toad jumped down from the table with a meaty plop.

"The furniture was moved violently, but only in this room," she said questioningly. "To make room for this, uh, ritual? Maybe looking for something, too."

She looked high and low. Kneeling down she finally looked at the face of the body. "It's definitely Thyrynn. Poor Thyrynn. But her face is different. Aged and withered. More markings on her face. Very subtle, in ash."

The toad croaked from the corner, behind an overturned bench.

Montral stepped in for a short moment to have a look. He grabbed a fresh parchment on his return to the table and documented the finding with grave concern.

The toad croaked again from the corner. "Dear sister, can you see what he wants," Montral requested.

She complied and looked over the bench to see the toad. She hated it, but occasionally it proved useful.

"The floorboards are torn up. Smashed in, rather. There's a chest down there. Also smashed in," she said with growing curiosity, "and empty."

She scooped up the toad, which frightened her spider. It scampered to the top of her head. She hated the feel of the toad's cold, clammy skin.

The sound of footsteps at the front door interrupted their concentration as she set the toad down in it's box. They'd both almost forgotten that Gorn was outside, alone with his grief.

"It's her isn't it," he nearly sobbed. "This isn't some sick joke, is it?"

"Oh, Gorn. You needn't see this," Eralee tried to say consolingly. She quickly moved to stop Gorn in the entranceway.

She reached up and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Do tell me, what treasure did you keep hidden under the floor boards in there?'

Gorn looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

A high pitched and extremely loud screech made them all jump. Something crashed into the house, shaking it to the foundation.

"What in The Blazes was that," Eralee exclaimed.

Another screech sounded, further away, but still loud and shrill enough to painfully vibrate their eardrums. Again something crashed into the house and thrashed against it.

Eralee bounded over to Montral, who was hastily rolling up the parchments. She grabbed her spider and put it in the empty box as delicately as possible. It's legs wriggled in protest to such rough treatment.

She snapped both lids closed and tossed them to Montral. He had just stuffed the parchments into his pack and barely had enough time to catch the boxes.

Gorn had stepped out to the porch to grab his axe when the wall of the sitting room burst open. A massively clawed paw tore through the timbers.

Through the opening, two saucer sized eyes appeared. Bright yellow and ringed with red, they searched the room. They drew back a moment to reveal more of the head that belonged to those eyes.

Heavy feathers spread back from the eyes, under a menacingly furrowed brow. The hide that had been curing on the wall outside hung from an enormous and sharp looking beak.

The beak opened, dropping the hide, to release another peircing shriek. Montral nearly dropped his pack to cover his ears while slinging it over his shoulder. Somehow he managed to do both.

Gorn lunged into the room, with axe in hand. "Owlbear!"

The massive paws clawed at the hole in the wall. Several more screeches sounded out across the valley. Each swipe of the paw widened the opening. Soon the beast would be in the room.

Gorn ran at the beast, hefting the axe as he went, intent on striking it down. He swung as the owlbear jammed it's head through the opening.

The axe glanced off the beast's beak. It shook it's mighty head, blinking, and pulled back through the hole.

Gorn had expected to bury the axe between the owlbear's eyes. The unexpected force of deflection sent the axe flying across the room and Gorn tumbling forward.

The owlbear reached in as Gorn stumbled and grabbed him. It dug it's claws into his back and reeled him up against the wall, pinning him there.

Eralee and Montral stood stunned for a moment, but burst into action. They each searched their belt pouches and prepared a spell. More screeches sounded from outside, much closer.

The owlbear reared back it's head, opening it's viscous beak, and bit down on Gorn's shoulder. It sliced through flesh and bone. He screamed a warcry of pain and blood soaked his shirt.

Still pinning him to the wall, the owlbear reared it's head again. Eralee lifted a fist above her head, speaking strange words, and thrust her hand forward, as if throwing a rock.

Streaks of radiant blue light burst from her hand and flew at the beast. They struck it in an eye before it could chomp down on Gorn again.

It fell back and released it's hold on Gorn. Eralee ran to retrieve him. "We have to get out of here," she yelled.

Dazed, Gorn could barely move. He leaked a dangerous amount of blood and would quickly die if something wasn't done about it soon.

"Outside, dear sister. I will be there momentarily," Montral shouted. He had a risky spell ready for the desperate situation.

The owlbear returned to the opening enraged, one eye closed and ruptured. It clawed and bit frantically at the opening, bashing itself against the wall. The entire house shook. Shelves fell, glass broke, and chandeliers swayed.

Eralee bore some of Gorn's weight as they limped past Montral to the door. His blood soaked into the satin of her gown. She rifled through her pouches with a free hand.

The beast was nearly in the room when Montral released his spell. An undulating ball of fire appeared between his hands as he moved backwards toward the door.

The owlbear broke the last of the timbers that were holding it back and fell into the room. It righted itself and shook it's head. A bloody fluid flew from it's closed eye in globs.

Montral pushed his hands forward and the fireball sailed across the room. He turned to run outside. The fireball struck the owlbear in the chest as it started to stand on it's hind legs, and exploded.

The force of the blast sent the burning owlbear tumbling back out the opening. Everything in the room burst into flames. More screeches sounded just outside.

Montral met Gorn and Eralee at the porch. "Do you have anymore of the powder from last week," he asked her.

"It's around here somewhere," she blurted.

Montral took Gorn by the other arm, helping to keep him upright and to take some weight off Eralee. "These wounds need attention. It's beyond our ability," he stated. "He will die soon without treatment."

"I know," she snapped. Clearly agitated, she continued to search her belt pouches.

"We could take him to...her," he suggested.

"Her? You can't be serious," she paused in disbelief. "It's forbidden."

The screeches were everywhere and closing in. More timbers snapped as the owlbear thrashed around. The fire crackled and popped, turning into an inferno.

"What other choice is there," he asked. "We can't let him die. We are sworn to protect."

"So be it," she conceded. "Ah, here it is." She held up a small purple velvet pouch and undid the tie with her teeth. "Close your eyes."

She tossed the powder contents of the pouch in the air above them. It shimmered like crushed diamonds, but fell on them slowly like flour.

As it did, they began to disappear. First their heads, then their shoulders. They began walking down the path as it happened.

Soon they were just three sets of legs walking out the garden path in front of Gorn's burning house. Then they were completely invisible.

Owlbears ran wildly through the valley. Some clawed and bit at the flames of the house, not comprehending the fire, but understanding the pain of the burn. Determined to kill whatever caused the pain they attacked the flames with greater ferocity.

Montral looked back at the house when it collapsed with a crunching plume of embers. A burning owlbear leaped from splintered timbers and fell dead just feet away, never noticing their presence.

"Drat," Montral said. "I left my favorite quill in there." He couldn't see Eralee shaking her head in disbelief.

"Come, now. We must hurry if he is to survive," she said.


	5. Chapter Five - Little Respite

**Chapter Five**

 _Little Respite_

Finally judging themselves to be a safe distance from Gorn's burning house and the frenzied owlbears, they stopped. Eralee and Montral layed Gorn down on a patch of moss in the shade of a giant maple tree. Eralee promptly dismissed the effects of her potent invisibility powder.

The three shimmered into view. Montral, green skinned and wild haired, unslung his pack and searched through it. Eralee knelt down to check on Gorn's wounds.

She slid a dagger from her sleeves and cut Gorn's shirt to remove it. When she pulled it back, she couldn't see the wounds for all the blood. Montral handed her a waterskin and a clean bit of linen.

She poured some water on his chest and began wiping away the blood to clean his wounds. Montral cut more strips of linen from the spare robe he found at the bottom of his pack. They sat Gorn up and began to wrap him with the makeshift bandaging.

He had lost a serious amount of blood, most of which had soaked the elves robes. After having wrapped up Gorn, they layed back to rest their exhausted muscles.

Gorn had dipped in and out of consciousness during their escape, and the elves had carried most of his weight.

"It's a risky chance we are trying. I'm not convinced the tales about her are even true," Eralee said and took a drink from the waterskin.

"I can't be certain of what's been said about her," Montral replied. "However, I am sure the warnings are far too true," he continued. "I've been to the ruins."

Eralee shot him a questioning look as she stood. Her once white satin robes clung to her body, now deep red with blood.

The two were rarely separated, and he'd never mentioned seeing the ruins. They didn't have time for one of Montral's long winded explanations, so she didn't ask.

Instead she asked, "Do we have any means of transport? We're still a ways from the ruins and I don't think I can carry Gorn much further."

Her fascinating collection of acquired trinkets had grown over the years. Perhaps Montral had packed something useful.

"Well I have a spell that might work," he said, "but it will take several moments of absolute concentration."

She nodded as he stood. Montral continued, "If I don't unwaveringly focus on the destination, we could open a path to things far more unpleasant."

She understood what he meant. "We've been to some nasty places. Keep them from your mind. Get focused and I'll keep a lookout."

"The waterskin, dear sister," he said with an outstretched hand.

She handed it to him and he poured some out. Montral uttered some arcane words and the water stopped before it hit the ground.

It gathered into a rippling globe and hovered in front of Montral. He stared deeply into it and focused his thoughts. It began to flatten and spread, forming into a disk.

The sound of hooves rumbling through the soil and roots brought Eralee to heightened senses. She could tell there was a single, four legged, hoofed animal running at full speed through the forest.

"Probably an elk," she thought to herself. She remembered seeing plenty of sign along the way. Pressed down grass bedding, droppings, and antler marks on trees. However, there was another sound that disturbed her. A strange flapping.

She drew her daggers and fell into a combative stance. Montral maintained his concentration. The disk grew wider and more thin. Images of exotic places flashed across it's surface as it spread out in front of him.

An elk abruptly jumped through the brush between some trees. It scraped itself along the brush and stamped into the clearing where the elves had Gorn. Something was clinging to the elks back.

It was a mass of creatures and one of them took flight when some brush dislodged it. It was about the size of a housecat. The creature flapped four red leathery wings upwards and dove back down again to land on the elk.

It jabbed a long sharp beak into the elk, making it rear up. The elk shook it's head and stamped it's forelegs in a futile effort.

"Just our luck," Eralee said to Gorn. "Stirges. Those bloodsuckers probably smelled you from a mile away."

The stirges feasting on the elk took notice of them, with a particular interest in Gorn. Some flew up into the air, looking like reptilian mosquitos. Others remained and jabbed at the faltering elk, seeking the last drops of it's blood.

Eralee gathered up Gorn, hoping Montral had finished creating the portal. The images in the disk stuttered into focus.

A deep and foggy forest landscape could be seen. Gnarled and twisted trees rose from dense patches of fern, like reaching arthritic hands. Remains of ancient stone structures could barely be seen through a thick fog. They tilted at odd angles with tangles of moss clinging to them.

"Close enough," said Montral. "A bit further than I would prefer, but it looks like we have more uninvited company."

He snatched up his pack and grabbed Gorn by an arm. They stepped into the portal as the elk staggered and fell. Even more stirges flew from it and raced toward Gorn.

A few of them followed through the portal, just before it shrank and disappeared.


	6. Chapter Six - Among Ruin

**Chapter Six**

 _Among Ruin_

A heavy damp smell hung in the air. They stepped onto dense moss. It tore open underfoot in places and released the fragrance of molds and mildew within the rich dark soil beneath. The sky could not be seen between the fog and the foliage overhead.

"Yes," Montral said. He blinked his almond shaped eyes, easily adjusting to the sudden dimness. "This is much further in than I had hoped. Be on guard, dear sister, for menacing trickery will certainly soon be upon us."

Eralee simply grunted with acknowledgement. The stirges, disoriented from passing through the portal, flew sporadically. They swooped past Eralee, who barely ducked out of their way, nearly hitting her. She laid Gorn on the ground. He moaned.

The stirges continued ahead and flew through a crumbling archway. They disappeared up into the foggy branches on the other side.

A long unused path led to the archway. It had once been neatly paved with well cut stone blocks. Now they sat unevenly, some were pushed up and broken by roots while others sank into the ground.

The archway sat in what may have once been a wall of some long forgotten building. It too crumbled under the force of nature and time. All that remained was a narrow segment with rubble and trees to either side.

A few large stone blocks led up to the archway, forming a set of steps. One pillar stood, no longer supporting anything, and another lay in broken pieces across the steps.

There was no sign of anything passing through recently. The heavy moss and forest debris, branches and rotting leaves, looked undisturbed.

Eralee, although no stranger to such locations, had only heard talk of this place. Every mention was spoken in quiet tones of sinister warning. She intently looked for any signs of something lurking.

Her ears perked up a bit. She thought she heard something. Something very subtle. Failing to locate the source, her brow furrowed.

It was such an unusual sound, it didn't belong in this setting. It seemed to come from everywhere, and yet nowhere. It almost sounded like a little mischievous child giggling.

She looked to Montral. His expression of worrisome fear worsened, becoming something between panic and paranoia. Eralee rarely saw this side of her brother. Perhaps once or twice in their youth.

"Do you hear that," she asked as waves of a strange sensation washed over her. Her words echoed back for a few moments.

Montral appeared to reply, but all she heard was a whirring mix of sounds. Somewhere in those sounds, she thought she heard the giggling again.

The gnarled tree branches overhead seemed to writhe and pulse. She began to feel small and confined as the branches appeared to close together, getting closer. Her breath became shallow and quick.

A violet glow began to grow on the other side of the archway. Shadows among the rubble stretched in unnatural angles. Something stepped toward the archway. A human looking silhouette could be seen, framed by stones and outlined by the rippling violet light.

Eralee could feel it's presence. Her legs buckled at the knees, weakened with fear. She could feel it all around her, within her. Her hands trembled and she gasped with wide eyes.

A sudden commotion of leathery wings flapping broke the silence. The two stirges swooped back down from hiding in the branches. They landed on the stones above the archway, one on each side above the opening.

Then it stepped into the archway, revealing itself.

It was tall and wore long heavy robes. They fluttered in a wind that affected nothing else. Patterns of skulls and wicked looking weapons were stitched into the black robes with silver thread.

A high collar rose behind it's bulbous head. Four tentacles wriggled where there should have been a mouth. It's globe like eyes seemed lifeless and unblinking, yet gave a searching impression of seeing everything.

An unnerving hissing and clicking could be heard as the tentacles began to whip. "Who dares disturb the sanctuary of Master Vonna?"


	7. Chapter Seven - Remember Now

**Chapter Seven**

 _Remember Now_

Eralee recalled the first time she learned of the ruins with her brother. It hadn't been long after Thyrynn's father offered them sanctuary in his valley. Long before Thyrynn had been born.

They would often visit the homestead to have regular potluck celebrations. On one such late evening, gathered around a campfire in the upper meadow with a few jugs of wine, he told them the story.

"Once upon a many moons ago," he had said. Plenty of his stories opened with the same line. Eralee and Montral chuckled, pulling gulps from their wineskins. They settled back and got ready for another one of his outlandish stories.

"Now, mind ye," he said while leaning forward over the fires light. His full beard shook emphatically. "This is a tale of warning. If you are to survive and be of use to me, you will take heed."

The twins promptly sat up straight at attention, but quickly slouched back to stifled giggles. Heads swimming with wine, their composure didn't have a chance at lasting.

"I traveled to a high meadow out past your tower. Foolish and younger, I explored every part of this valley all alone," he pulled another gulp of wine.

"A mountain lion mauled me. Hurt me something fierce," he continued. "I barely remember how it went down, but I got away."

He looked at them grimly. "I dragged myself into that meadow, bleeding, guts poking out." Eralee winced, making Thyrynn's father chuckle.

"I came across some ruins in the heart of that meadow. Ancient things, older than the tower and in worse shape." That made them all consider, for a moment, how much work it would take to get the tower into livable condition.

"I found some carvings there," he squinted at his new friends. "I don't know much about writing, but there were plenty of picture looking carvings to give me a good idea of what went down in that place."

Eralee stopped squirming and leaned forward with a look of joyful interest. Montral even steadied a bit at the mention of ancient mystery.

"From what I can figure," Thyrynn's father surmised. "There were two different groups of little people. They mined into the mountain and created a society that spanned the valley. They had stuff all over the place."

"What kind of stuff," Montral asked.

"Don't interrupt," he commanded. "I'm telling the story." He scratched his beard, trying to regain his thoughts.

"There are strange and dangerous mechanisms of magic all over this valley. I've seen most of 'em." A distant look filled his eyes. "Enough of 'em to make me stop looking for more of 'em."

Montral looked out to the high valley walls, wondering what lay waiting for him to find. His mind reeled, already making plans of exploration.

"Now pay attention," Thyrynn's father said in a very fatherly way. "I know you are bound to go searching regardless of anything I do or don't tell ye. But this one thing, ye have to promise me."

Eralee and Montral nodded in reaction to his sudden seriousness.

"Do not go near the heart of the upper meadow. The magics there are beyond anything known by the two of you."

He rubbed his forehead with a wince of remembered pain. "I was dying there, some crumbling room in a ruin. Just staring up at all those carvings."

"I kept figuring on what they meant, trying to keep my mind from my dying. The mines went deeper and they used the riches to create a civilization. The heart of that meadow was the center of it all. The entrance to the mines were guarded by a mighty city."

Montral's mind felt a pull toward the ruins of such a society. He wondered at what secrets may be found in such a place.

"The mines broke through into a void, where some weird things lived at the bottom of the pit. A great battle went on for many moons. The little people struggled to protect their border against the things from the pit."

Thyrynn's father shook his head. "They lost more ground with every passing moon, until they were pushed back to the city at the mines entrance."

"When I thought I'd taken my last breath, I saw one of 'em." Thyrynn's father took another short and fast pull from his wineskin. "It was one of those things from the pit."

"It got into my mind," he continued. The campfire popped, sending embers glowing upward. "It burned my mind and searched my soul. I've never felt more violated."

"It told me I'd been found worthy. That I had a destiny that agreed with them," he said. It sounded like he was still trying to understand what that meant.

"She healed me," he resumed. "I'm not sure exactly how I knew it was a she, but that's how it sounded in my head. She took me back to the edge of that meadow in perfect health."

Eralee and Montral regarded the man in new way. Already impressed with his benevolence, they began to understand that even more lay beneath.

"She told me to go home, never to return to the high meadow. She said that any trespassers would meet the full fury of a force that crushed an entire civilization."

"Oh," Eralee drunkenly slapped her knee. "Where's the part about a prince and a maiden? All your stories have that in it somewhere."

"Remember what I've said. I forbid you to enter the heart of the high meadow. She would not like it at all." Thyrynn's father took a deep pull from a wineskin and fell backwards off his seat.

Eralee felt the invading presence in her own mind as she recalled the story. She understood that some invading presence had prompted the memory and listened to the recollection, experiencing it with her.


	8. Chapter Eight - Remember When

**Chapter Eight**

 _Remember When_

"You look different," her voice reverberated through the minds of the elven twins. The tentacles thrashed forward with an outstretched pointing finger. "You green skinned one."

Montral let a pained sound escape his lips. Eralee compulsively reached for him with comfort.

"I recognize you now," the searing voice in their minds lashed out. The hissing and clicking grew louder. The creature stepped forward with it's tenticles writhing in agitation.

"I've told you myself to never return to these steps," it said and stepped down from the first stone block. The stirges shifted in their roost on the archway.

"You, Montral. I see within you." It took another step closer. "I know what you have done."

Gorn returned to consciousness for a moment. He could see the twins cowering amidst the ruins. With a turn of his head, he saw the creature step down from the last ledge.

"Master Vonna," said a pale human. It's gaunt face, bathed in vacant pain, bobbed up from behind her through the archway.

"What did I miss," it asked.

A giggling washed down across the ruins with a faint thumping of small drums.

With tentacles falling limp, the creature swatted at the gaunt figure creeping around it's legs. "Get back, Gorthain."

"Am I late?" Gorthain asked, with eyes blinking at each slap to the face.

"Shush," Master Vonna said. She looked across the ruins with irritation. "Focus, don't falter."

The drumming stopped and the sky grew darker with thickening fog. Master Vonna put her hands on the sides of her head and screamed. The stirges fell dead to the rubble from their roosts.

"Please," Montral said.

Drums began again, echoing through the ruins. All in unison, "Bawm bawm, bawm bwawn."

"I know what I've done," Montral said. The drumming rolled into one unified rumbling. "I also know what I am doing."

"Must we take their minds," Gorthain asked. It looked up to Master Vonna and clutched at the robes.

Other gaunt faces rose and peered from behind obscure places. Deep eyes and sunken pale faces appeared from their hiding places. "Must they be taken?"

"Hear me," Montral commanded.

"Not again," Master Vonna said.

"Please," Eralee shouted. "I know you have before taken mercy. I know you've healed. This man is husband to Thyrynn. He is Gorn, keeper of the valley."

She gained strength enough to gesture toward Gorn. "He's deadly wounded. This man. Husband to Thyrynn."

The drums stopped and hushing sounds whispered down the grotto edge.

Gorn stiffened, convulsively, as Vonna stepped above him. Gorthain scuttled forward in the shadows of her robes. It motioned to the other gaunt faces that were revealing themselves from behind roots and rubble.

"Contain the elves," Master Vonna said. "Take them to our grotto. I will be there shortly."


End file.
